


soften every edge

by deanssammy (babylxxrry)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attack, Sensory Overload, Touching, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 18:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15125684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/deanssammy
Summary: he’s stuck in his head, stuck in the low hum of thousands of voices and sounds and sights and information he’d been flooded with today. god, does he hate cities.[or, sensory overload is a bitch. it’s easier when dean’s around.]





	soften every edge

**Author's Note:**

> hi. yeah it’s been a while. no excuses besides writer’s block. this is my fourth try posting. the wifi is complete and absolute shit. 
> 
> enjoy while i try and get my life back together.

sam’s shaking, he knows, but he can’t stop. he can’t stop shaking even though he doesn’t want to be. it feels like every cell in his body is vibrating at its own frequency and he can’t stop them no matter what he tries. he’s stuck in his head, stuck in the low hum of thousands of voices and sounds and sights and information he’d been flooded with today. god, does he hate cities.

‘sam?’ dean’s voice makes itself known amongst the hundreds of other sounds crying for sam’s attention. ‘sammy, you alright?’

sam shakes his head. maybe if he stares at one point on the wall, unblinking, his brain can reset itself and fix its shit. he picks a random pinprick hole that someone had made with a thumbtack. he blocks out dean’s concerned sounds and focuses all of his attention on that point. the outlines of the things in his peripheral vision start to brighten, turning into neon strips of light burning themselves into his eyeballs. he blinks. the strips go away. he refocuses and lets the neon come back into his peripheral vision, slowing building closer to the hole until the hole is consumed by grey static and he’s forced to blink.

his eyes hurt. they water. he blinks faster and tries again. and again. and again.

his head’s still full of sounds. he just wants silence. he just wants silence and the chance to recalibrate himself, to start fresh and wipe off all of the things he’s picked up today. he needs his head to shut up, needs his body to stop feeling everything around him, needs to be numb and still and sensationless.

‘sam,’ dean’s voice comes through again, and sam turns his head ever so slightly to see his brother standing at the side of the bed. ‘i’m going to turn the lights off, okay? take off whatever you need to and get under the blanket.’

sam nods slowly. this is the overload recovery plan he and dean had put in place all those years ago. he hasn’t had to use it very much in the past, but apparently, there’s no time like the present. he pulls his shirt off, sucking in a harsh breath at the way it seems to burn against his skin as it drags up his torso. he shucks off his jeans, kicking them to the ground and toeing his socks off. he pulls the blanket back as dean flicks the light off. the room is bathed in blessed darkness and sam takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to clear them of input. he opens them. there’s not much to see, but he fumbles his way under the sheets, cocooning himself tight in the bottom layer. it helps, a little, to feel the familiar smooth-coarse motel sheets against his bare skin. he forces himself to note it, then let it go.

dean’s soft footsteps approach the bed, and sam focuses on the tell-tale sounds of clothing hitting the shitty carpeted floor. he tunes out the ringing in his skull, the roar of sounds stuck between his ears, refusing to leave. the blanket  lifts and dean’s weight dips the bed. sam notes these things, then lets them go. dean’s warmth settles next to him, and there’s a moment of perfect silence before dean speaks.

‘i’m here, sammy. whatever you need.’

sam makes a little sound that he hopes dean understands as ‘thank you’. he rolls onto his side so he’s closer to dean and they’re facing each other. the room is dark enough that he can’t see dean’s face, but he can feel dean’s breath over his cheek. he makes a note of it, then lets it go. dean opens his arms and sam wriggles a little closer until dean can gather him up in his arms. sam buries his face in dean’s chest, breathing in dean’s scent until he’s dizzy with it. he focuses on that, lets go of the scent of the city. focuses on the coffee and leather and sweat and smoke and cinnamon and _dean_ and lets go of concrete and smog and car exhaust and wet trash and stale, recycled air conditioning.

he’s not shaking anymore, but his head’s still so loud.

‘c’n you…’ sam starts, unsure of how to phrase his request. it’s not an uncommon one, but he wishes dean could just read his mind instead of having to make himself vulnerable this way. ‘c’n you talk to me? really quietly, about anything at all?’

dean, of course, hums in agreement. he starts talking softly, about something sam can’t quite pick up, but it’s okay. sam presses closer to dean’s chest and lets the vibrations of dean’s voice rumble through his head. underneath it all, he can hear dean’s heart thumping slowly, steadily. he focuses on those two things and lets go of car horns and the rumble of hundreds of cars in traffic. sam closes his eyes, curling closer to dean, letting dean’s little monologue clean out the too-many voices still running around. dean’s arms tighten around him, and there’s a little break in the sound when sam feels a soft pressure against the top of his head. a kiss, then.

‘y’know, sammy,’ dean’s saying, ‘sometimes i wonder what life would have been like without you. would john and i have kept hunting. would mary be with us?’

sam stiffens. he doesn’t like this kind of talk, where he’s been left out of the equation, left behind for dead.

‘hey, hey.’ dean’s hand comes up to stroke through sam’s hair. it’s getting long now, curling at the ends. sam kind of likes it. ‘shhh, it’s okay, sam, it’s okay. i wouldn’t want that for myself. i need you around, you know that? i need you around to keep me sane, and i think i take that for granted.’

sam snorts. ‘you don’t say.’

‘sorry,’ dean shrugs, though he does actually sound somewhat sorry. sam will take it, though. the sounds in his head are quieting down, just like they always do once dean starts talking to him.

dean’s still talking, but sam’s started to nod off. he always does, once the noise is quiet enough for him to shut down his mind manually. he turns off his senses one by one. first taste, then sight. he closes his eyes and nestles closer. dean’s hand keeps combing through his hair. then it’s hearing. he starts to tune dean’s specific words out, just following the contours of the sentences, then just following the existence of dean’s voice. then comes smell. sam’s breathing starts to even out, and he’s not desperately taking in dean’s scent to calm himself down.

he always leaves touch on, though, because dean’s arms around him ground him like nothing else. he couldn’t ask for anything more than dean’s love, sam thinks as his mind finally lets go of everything and he drifts off to sleep.

 

 

-fin.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment or kudos if you feel for sam as much as i do !!


End file.
